


Sir Isaac is Right

by luvsanime02



Series: FMA Prompts [7]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Humor, F/F, Family Secrets, Grief/Mourning, Prompt Fic, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 01:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3792070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luvsanime02/pseuds/luvsanime02
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the collection of prompt fics for FMA. It never mattered to Trisha who her father is, until suddenly it does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sir Isaac is Right

**Disclaimer:** I don’t own Fullmetal Alchemist. That honor belongs to Hiromu Arakawa. I’m making no profit off of this fic.

 **AN:** This is from a meme where you write a story using fifteen words or less about the prompt in question. After I completed the prompt I decided to expand the scenario a bit.

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 **Sir Isaac is Right** by luvsanime02

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Prompt: 10 and 4 find out they're related (Trisha Elric and Riza Hawkeye).

“Who was your father?” Trisha interrupts.

Riza blinks. “Bertolt Hawkeye,” she responds curiously.

“…Oh my.”

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They meet during Freshman Seminar, and band together immediately as the only two in their class who already know all of the material listed on the syllabus. They both suffer through the painful ice breakers the professor makes the class complete, which do nothing but ensure that none of them ever want to see any of their classmates ever again.

After that agonizing first lesson is over they pick up their bags and silently head over to a nearby coffee place, enjoying the quiet.

Trisha Elric had shown up to that class because that’s what she does, but she can’t say that she minds too much this time. Not when Riza is now sitting across from her at a small table, their knees brushing together and both of them smiling.

“I thought that Vato guy was never going to stop talking,” she admits, as they’re both finally starting to relax.

Riza grants her a warm smile that Trisha feels even more vividly than the coffee sliding down her throat. “I kicked him under the table,” Riza comments, without a hint of shame.

Trisha pretends to be shocked for a moment, and then they both burst out laughing. Riza’s fingers lightly brush the back of her hand when she reaches for a napkin, and the sensation is wonderful. She hadn’t even known to want this and it’s already the best thing that’s ever happened to her.

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They’ve been dating for months when they finally discover the truth, and even then it’s an off-hand remark that reveals everything. Personally, Trisha blames that seminar class and the professor who teaches it. He was the one who’d insisted they all introduce themselves using only their first names, insisting that it was more casual that way.

Trisha wonders now why she’d never thought to ask Riza for her full name before, but then, Riza hadn’t asked her either. To Trisha, she is _Riza._ She knows how Riza likes her coffee, how awesome she plays during lacrosse games, knows how well she _kisses,_ her lips trailing down Trisha’s neck playfully.

What she hadn’t known until just now is Riza’s last name.

“-he was being so immature, too. ‘You’re quite right, Miss Hawkeye, of course. Don’t worry, I’ll retrieve it for you.’ Serves him right for breaking his arm falling out of that tree.”

Trisha feels her chest constrict and she gasps sharply.

“Of course, I blamed-”

“Who was your father?” Trisha interrupts.

Riza blinks. “Bertolt Hawkeye,” she responds curiously.

“…Oh my.”

“What is it?” Riza asks her. Her head is cocked a little to the side and her brow is furrowed. Trisha wants to kiss her but she doesn’t think she’s allowed to anymore. She wonders why she feels like crying.

“My last name’s Elric,” Trisha informs her. She looks closely at Riza’s face for any sign of recognition, but there’s nothing.

Trisha takes a deep breath and then continues. “It was my mother’s maiden name, actually. She married someone else later, but she had me when she was really young.” She doesn’t want to drag this out any longer, can’t, and just blurts it out. “When I asked, years ago, she told me my father’s name was Bertolt Hawkeye.”

Riza is blinking at her as though what she’s saying doesn’t make any sense, that she must be mistaken somehow. Trisha knows that she isn’t. She clears her throat, but Riza still isn’t saying anything. “He’s a professor of alchemy, right? That’s what my mom told me.”

Trisha feels cold, and hugs herself to ward off the chill even though she knows it’s coming from inside of her. After some more minutes spent in silence, Riza finally speaks.

“Was, yes.”

It’s Trisha’s turn to blink, not quite understanding.

Perhaps sensing her confusion, Riza continues. “My father was a professor of alchemy. However, he was very sick with leukemia and died a few years ago.”

She says this very plainly, as is Riza’s way, and now it is Trisha’s turn to be shocked. “He’s dead,” she whispers. It shouldn’t matter to her, not at all. This man was nothing to her. She’d never seen him, never even spoken to him.

Still. Still…

Trisha finds herself crying quietly after all. Her vision is blurry with tears, and then she’s wrapped up in warmth and the smell of Riza’s shampoo is under her nose.

Silently, she lets herself cry for a little longer, but vows this will be the only time she cries over a man she didn’t even know. Her mother is dead, too. She died in childbirth when Trisha was ten. Her father, the only one that really matters, raised her afterwards, both of them helping each other grieve and heal.

Riza doesn’t tell her to hush, or that everything will be fine. She just holds her, lightly stroking her hair as Trisha lets a very old hurt inside of her finally bleed free.

When her tears are all spent, Trisha pulls back, remembering again that this isn’t something she can have anymore. Even this has been taken away from her.

Except then Riza leans forward and kisses her on the lips, softly. Trisha blinks, still feeling the last of her tears clinging to her eyelashes. “We’re sisters,” she says, as though Riza has somehow missed this important fact.

Riza shrugs. “So we are,” she agrees calmly. “I won’t tell anyone.” A pause. “Well, maybe I’ll tell Mr. Mustang some day, but only to get him back for the salt incident.”

Trisha laughs. She wonders if things can really be settled that easily, then decides that she doesn’t care. They’ll figure it out, together.


End file.
